


Rectified Spirits

by twnkwlf



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Bisexuality, Getting Together, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Hogwarts Seventh Year, Homophobia, Jealousy, M/M, Underage Drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 07:24:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7882060
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twnkwlf/pseuds/twnkwlf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A thought occurred to Scorpius that this whole thing had been rather impulsive. Maybe being surrounded by hordes of Weasley Gryffindors all the time was starting to rub off on him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rectified Spirits

**Author's Note:**

> For the sake of the story, I'm reinforcing that Percy is a square, old fashioned mf. This story talks about homophobia and intolerance a bit so be warned if that's not your thing! 
> 
> Scorbus is endgame, but there is some sideline Louis/Scorpius, so don't be deterred.

Scorpius’ mouth was on fire and he was trying his best not to openly gag.

“It’s not _that_ bad.” Albus rolled his eyes as he took a small swig of the bottle he was holding. On the outside, it looked as though he was unfazed by the god-awful taste, but Scorpius was keenly tuned into all things Albus Severus Potter and he noticed the way the other boy’s throat tightened with tension.

“If you don’t consider a burning esophagus a bad thing, then it’s lovely,” he said as he sat up on his elbows. It was Lily who had built a nook in front of the fireplace a few days ago. Pink and purple bedsheets, quilts, and pillows were lovingly piled in front of the small crackling fire and no one had bothered to tidy the living room since then, so the boys were sprawled out, warming their feet, heads resting on stray stuffed animals. The messiness of the Potters’ house during the Christmas holiday was something Scorpius admired. His own home was charmed clean at all times thanks to the many house elves who were paid to roam the grounds. The Potters did their own cleaning. Well, he assumed they were _meant_ to do their own cleaning. He watched Albus take another drink and pretend that he liked it. “Why are we drinking muggle whiskey?” Scorpius asked. “When magic whiskey is made specifically to _not_ taste like Voldemort’s asshole?”

“That’s the thing, though. Magic whiskey is still just whiskey at its heart.”

Scorpius couldn’t really believe they were discussing the _heart_ of a bottle of something called _Wild Turkey._ “I don’t see your point, mate.”

“My point is that,” Albus held up the 12oz bottle of brownish whiskey and shook it about. “Wizards aren’t doing anything to alcohol except casting charms on it in the brewery or putting magic additives and whatnot to make it all taste funny or better. That flashy rainbow cocktail that James made last week? The one that changes colors the drunker you get? It’s not even a potion, it’s just a charm. It’s just alcohol. Vodka actually. Made from potatoes.”

“So you’re saying that potatoes are at the heart of magical fermentation?”

“Yes. Well, no, not whiskey. I think this lot is made from…barely or something.”

“This has been a really informative discussion, you know. Potatoes. Barley. I think I’m getting quite hungry.”

Albus kicked Scorpius in the shin lightly. “I haven’t made my point yet. This stuff is pure, you know?” He presented the bottle like he was trying to sell it, carefully propped up on his hands and tilted toward the firelight. “Wizards—we took something that the muggles had thought of all on their own with potatoes and barley and then we threw some spells on it, and called it ours. I’m drinking muggle whiskey exclusively from here on out.”

“Firstly, let me just say how proud I am that you’ve been doing your muggle studies homework,” Scorpius said.  “Secondly, I think you’ve been spending too much time with Teddy. Did he give you this?” Scorpius reached across to swipe the bottle from his adoring hands.

“Yeah, well. He’s got a really cool muggle girlfriend. They’re in all these groups together. Like, activist groups for muggle justice. The Prophet hardly ever covers any of their protests. Did you know they stopped a parade in Cambridge last week?”

His eyes had lit up with fire and something else. Trouble, probably. He had these looks about him, Albus, ones that always seemed to drag Scorpius into situations like drinking too much harsh muggle whiskey in the Potter living room, like traveling to other worlds and times. It would all probably end with Scorpius helping Teddy’s muggle girlfriend to make picket signs that said “MUGGLE AND WIZARD SOLIDARITY” or something off the like. Before he could say anything, however, the front door slammed behind them, jolting them both. Albus quickly threw the bottle of his so called beloved and pure whiskey into the fire and jerked his head around in one spastic movement. It turned out only to be James with a few others trailing behind him—none of them proper adults.

“We’re having a Christmas party,” James declared. Most of the things that came out of James’ mouth were declarations. Or swears.

“What?” Albus stood up, wobbly on his feet. “What, right now?”

A few of James’ cousins made their way inside, all of them unwrapping long scarves and pulling off hand knitted mittens that Molly Weasley had no doubt crafted over the years. Bill Weasley’s son Louis was there, who was a year younger than Albus and Scorpius, and also the most beautiful looking boy that the wizarding world was likely to ever see. Scorpius threw that thought into the fire alongside the whiskey. He noticed the other one, Molly Junior who was named after their vibrant gran and was a red headed cousin that Scorpius had only met once or twice, as she stepped forward as well.

“Yes, right now,” James said as he kicked his boots in two different directions. “I cracked Mum’s spell for the liquor cabinet last week, didn’t Lily tell you?”

Harry and Ginny were at a Daily Prophet Christmas event this evening—a fancy dress party that Harry had complained about for the entire week that Scorpius had been at the Potter house. He was sure his own father would be attending if he weren’t out of country on very vague business, which was an adjective one could use for most of Draco’s business ventures. Scorpius himself might have been dragged to the party if that were the case. But it looked as though tonight he would fulfill his well-established role as the interloper at yet another Potter family event. The cousins didn’t spare him much of a second glance. Scorpius tended to meld into the background with this lot, which was fine by him, because he had Albus.

“What’s the occasion? Well, you know…besides Christmas, and it being…a Christmas party, as you say… obviously,” he rambled while scratching at his head like it might help him form better sentences. Albus lifted an eyebrow at him.

“We’re celebrating my arsehole of a father,” said Molly with very thick fake enthusiasm. Scorpius struggled for a moment to remember which of the many Weasley uncles Molly’s father was, but Albus reminded him.

“What’s Uncle Percy done now?” he said.

“He’s thrown Louis out of the house tonight. Can you believe that? Our own cousin isn’t welcome at our house! At Christmas, no less. Aunt Fleur sent him four howlers already. And it’s only been,” she paused to check her watch. “Three hours since we left.”

“Why would your uncle barre you from coming over, Louis?” Scorpius asked. He wondered if it was meddlesome to ask anything at all, since he was beginning to sense that this was a bit of a massive family crisis which all of the cousins were being extremely cavalier about.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” said Louis with a grim face. It was still a beautiful one, however, even with the scowl/frown dragging it down. Scorpius nodded a bit awkwardly.

“Nope, none of that. We’re not talking about it. We’re drinking about it. Come on, you lot. Wands at the ready.” James unceremoniously dropped his coat on the floor.

And as he led the four of them to the kitchen liquor cabinet with his wand out and shoulders straight and back, as though he were marching toward a duel, Albus snuck a worried glance at Scorpius who shrugged. Then suddenly, a small explosion happened in the fireplace. The glass from the bottle shattered and popped loudly like a curse, making them both jump back.

“Sweet Dumbledore,” Scorpius said. “I told you muggle whiskey is traumatic.”

***

Two hours later, Albus was well and truly, and very, very drunk, and it was starting to feel terrible.

“I know the spell! I can’t believe you’d doubt me,” Rose was saying. She was actually yelling, more like, but everyone in the house was speaking a few times louder than necessary. Some of James’ teammates were in the middle of a heated table-quidditch match over by the dining room, which was generating most of the noise in the cramped house. Roxy and Victoire were singing boldly along to something playing loudly over the charmed radio. Behind them, Albus could blearily make out that Lily and James were arguing again, this time over whether she was allowed to have a drink now that she was a fifth year, and up in the bathroom, everyone could hear Molly, Hugo, and Freddie experimenting with some of the new Wheezes fireworks that Uncle Ron had yet to inspect for sale. They would all be lucky if the house didn’t catch fire, probably.

It was a typical family party, minus the adults, and plus a few of Victoire’s friends from France, all of whom James had tried to hit on already. None of them seemed particularly interested in quidditch or the fact that half of the Lancashire team were screaming over a ping pong ball that had been charmed to travel around the table game like a snitch. Flaunting his sports career was about all the flirting skills that James possessed.

Rose gave him a shove on the shoulder, bringing him back to where they were sitting across from each other at the kitchen island. “You said you feel sick, you bastard, so trust me. I can fix it.”

“I don’t doubt you, Rosey, but your wand’s upside down, I think.”

Her cheeks were getting very red and she was probably nearly as drunk as Albus. With her wand right side up, she cleared her throat, preparing to cast the charm. She told Albus it was something she had read and witnessed her mother preform on Uncle Ron a dozen times—but suddenly a hand came from behind her and slapped itself over her mouth before she could say the incantation.

Teddy appeared from her other side and plucked her wand from out of her hands. “Rose Weasley,” he began, tutting at her. “Were you just about to perform a spell under the influence?”

“Um,” Rose said, looking up at him. She always did have a bit of a crush on the man. His hair tonight was a violent shade of green. He twirled her wand between his long fingers and shook his wild head back and forth.  

“You’re going to end up shrinking his nose three sizes or something. What are you trying to cast anyway?”

“A sobering charm. Albus says the room is spinning.” She swiped her wand back, clearly trying to be sly, but coming off a bit sloppy.

“Well, cast one on yourself, you drunk arse, before you go cursing the whole party. Best let him sleep it off.” He put his arm around Albus and leaned in to whisper. “You and Malfoy drank that whole bottle, didn’t you?”

Albus would have shaken his head, but the room really was spinning. As Rose attempted to saunter off (stumbling), he managed to point, not very subtly, toward Victoire across the room. “Isn’t she going to bite your head off for showing up?” He’d seen Victoire and Teddy get into a row too many times to not be scared for the safety of all the people in the house. “Oh, you didn’t bring your new girlfriend, did you? She’ll go mad.”

“Well, it’s going on a year and a half since we ended it. She can’t avoid me forever. Besides…we’ll be back together by the New Year, I bet.”  

“If you two manage to stay together for longer than a year,” Albus said, feeling a bit brazen with the alcohol storming his system. “I’ll never drink a drop of whiskey again.”

“Vicky and I are _meant to be_ , Ally. If we manage to stay apart for longer than two, drink to that.” He looked over at Vic with the same lovelorn, hopeless, bonkers look he’d been giving her since before Albus could even remember. “What’s the meaning of this party anyway?” he said while turning his back to Albus’ eldest cousin, as though he suddenly remembered his cool muggle girlfriend and snapped out of the Victoire Weasley trance. “James doesn’t have a game for another three weeks. He usually saves up his steam for the after parties.”

Albus looked around at the tableau of drunken Potters and Weasleys with a bit of anger stewing in his stomach as he remembered what Molly had said. “I think this whole thing a distraction,” he told Teddy.

“A distraction? From what, now?”

“Uncle Percy,” he said, wanting to bite down on something. “Tonight he…well I don’t know, really, but I think he’s made it clear how he feels about Louis.”

“Oh, fucking Merlin, you can’t be serious?” Teddy’s voice dropped and Albus watched his hair suddenly pop dark red. “What century is he living in, that man?”

“He’s a square old bastard. Molly says Louis isn’t welcome this Christmas for Boxing Day Tea.” Albus tried not to feel anything but bitterness about the situation, but he couldn’t deny that it would a privilege for him to finally have a reason to blow off Uncle Percy’s dreadful annual Boxing Day Tea Party. If Louis couldn’t come, there was no way he would be going.

“Fleur is going to truly murder him. Honestly. You better call your dad and warn the department.” Teddy turned around and scanned the kitchen, then poked his head around the corner to scan the living room. He looked back at Albus, his hair slowly returning to its previous shade of green. The effect was very festive. “Where is Louis, anyway? Someone ought to talk to the poor lad.”

Albus found that their conversation had sobered him quite a lot, as though Rose had really cast her charm perfectly. He looked around the room at his family, but he couldn’t find a blonde head anywhere. Not Louis’ or Scorpius’.

***

Scorpius felt sick. Not because he had drank too much. To be quite honest, he didn’t feel drunk in the slightest. He felt sick because he didn’t know what to say or do to make Louis feel better. Together they sat on the bedroom floor of Albus’ room, leaning against the foot of the unmade bed. Louis had his head in his hands, and Scorpius had the feeling that if he lifted it, he’d see tears.

“I didn’t even want to say anything at first, but—“ he was saying, words muffled by his hands. “But it was like he was egging me on. ‘ _Got yourself a girlfriend, yet, Louis? Handsome young man like you should have a girlfriend at your age. I had a girlfriend at your age!’_ And he just…just kept going on and on.”

“So you just…you just told him?”

Louis lifted up his head and looked at Scorpius full in the face. He’d wiped away any tears, but his cheeks were perfectly red. “I told him I was _never_ going to have a girlfriend and so why doesn’t he ask me about my boyfriend instead.”

Scorpius swallowed thickly. “Do you…have a boyfriend at Hogwarts?”

“Not really.” He rolled his eyes. “I just wanted to see the look on Percy’s face, mostly. “

Scorpius had no idea what to say next, so he simply took a sip from the tea cup of Carmella’s Colourful Calculating Cocktail he’d been nursing all night. It was currently a dull grey-ish green, meaning he was nearly sober now. There wasn’t a point to drinking, really. Louis hadn’t had a drop all night. This whole party seemed like Molly’s last minute idea of trying to heal the wounds her father had dug in, but Louis looked completely miserable the entire time that James and the rest of the Lincolnshire teammates had been swapping drinking song, and he’d been uninterested in watching Freddie light a firework underwater in the Potter’s bathtub, and he’d been missing for the last hour anyway. Scorpius had only found him here, in the dark, when he came upstairs to take a break from the crowd below them. Loius leaned his head back on the bed behind them and closed his eyes as he continued.

“Then we started arguing, and he was being a right old fashioned prick, and Molly went _mad_ on him so he told us to both leave. I was only over to bring Molly and Lucy their presents and chat, I—“ He took a shaky breath. “I didn’t mean for this… I didn’t mean for it to… to explode like this.” He pressed his hand to his forehead. “And now my mum’s going to start an entire wizarding war over it.”

“It’s not your fault, Louis, I hope you know that?” Scorpius said. “It’s not even a little bit your fault. It’s Percy’s problem. He’s in the dark ages, I mean, _merlin._ ”

“Everyone knows I’m gay, you know?” He threw his hands up. “Mum and dad don’t care. Fucking Gran doesn’t care! Percy just lives in his own world where everything should be proper.”

“You look plenty proper to me.” Scorpius immediately regretted saying that. It sounded a lot less cheeky in his head. Louis looked back up at him with eyes a bit wider than before and Scorpius was too scared to look away or move or say anything.

“You’re the proper one,” he said back after a moment.

“I’m not that proper, really.” He hoped Louis understood.

They looked at each other for what must have been a full minute, until Scorpius could feel his heart beat trying to regulate itself. For half a second, Scorpius wondered whether he was imagining being in a dark room with Louis Weasley. Something like this lived usually in the very full corners of Sorpius’ mind, overcrowded with the memory of wet dreams about Albus’ aunt Luna in her gardening shoes and nothing else, and the very common casual fantasy of reaching over and kissing Albus in the middle of potions lessons when he was slightly sweaty and confused.

Louis’ breath was very real when it ghosted across Scorpius’ face.

And then, they were scooting a bit closer together. He felt Louis touch his arm with one of his fingers. Louis sat up and began leaning in. In the next moment he  was kissing Scorpius and Scorpius was kissing him back, winding his hands into his hair, trying to be delicate, but feeling like he’d lost all measure of his own weight and strength.

Scorpius had only kissed one person before—Rose, in his fifth year after Slytherin lost the house cup to Gryffindor, and the look of smugness on her face had driven him wild with want for a hot second. He’d dipped in to kiss her mouth and nearly missed, but it had ended with a bit of tongue and a hard smack on his chest afterward before she’d stormed off. They never really spoke about it afterwards. Scorpius suspected he was quite a bad kisser, having never done it before. This time around, he was a little more prepared for the awkward combination of lips, tongues, and teeth. He twisted his head to the left, letting Louis come forward and take more. A thought occurred to Scorpius that this whole thing had been rather impulsive, just like with Rose. Maybe being surrounded by hordes of Weasley Gryffindors all the time was starting to rub off on him.

It was best not to think, and the just let the nervousness and excitement wash over him instead. After a moment, Louis crawled slowly and methodically into his lap, and he was small, so he could fit there quite well with both knees on either side of Scorpius’ legs. And then he was holding Louis by the waist and feeling all the blood rush below as Louis ground into him. And then Scorpius was hissing as he pushed his hips up to try and copy him. It was impulse after impulse. And then it had been minutes and minutes of this, of breathlessly snogging against the foot of a bed that belonged to neither one of them, that almost beaconed them to crawl into it and roll around without another thought. And then Scorpius was panting, almost moaning as Louis whispered something filthy and electric against his pulse.  

And then the door opened. A light suddenly fell on them.

The music from downstairs was suddenly loud and infiltrating in the room, and despite the fact that Roxanne was mid-howl, it had a quieting effect. Albus looked in, just a silhouette in the threshold, but Scorpius recognized the shape of him immediately and with a shock deep in his guts. It was because he was keenly tuned into all things Albus Severus Potter—his mannerisms, ticks. His shape in the dark, even. He could almost see his face, mapping it out in his mind, or the way it must have looked in that moment, seeing at them in his own room, doing secret things. Scorpius and Albus weren’t meant to have secrets.  A second later he was shutting the door with a quick lurch of the handle.  Scorpius heard his footsteps pounding down the stairs after that, and he felt weightless and heavy at the same time.

Louis slumped a bit, forehead hitting Scorpius’ shoulder. Perhaps the heaviness was because he was still sitting in his lap. He’d nearly forgotten Louis was there in the moment, but then softly, Scorpius heard him mutter, “I hate my family.”

 


End file.
